


Nothing's Gonna Harm You (Not While I'm Around)

by TheShadowInTheKnight



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, Baby Peter Parker, Child Abandonment, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, Loss of Parent(s), Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Obidiah Stane is a horrible person, Parent Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Tony Stark, Rehabilitation, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowInTheKnight/pseuds/TheShadowInTheKnight
Summary: Tony Stark is many things. A billionaire, a playboy, the CEO of a major company, and the son of an American engineering legend. He is not a father. But when a baby in a wooden crate is dropped off at his door, he finds himself thrust into the role with only a note from a familiar face and a dog tag with an etching of the name Peter.





	Nothing's Gonna Harm You (Not While I'm Around)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Knight here! I've been on a long hiatus for lack of motivation and this is my way of fighting it. The story and tags may evolve as new ideas come to me, but hopefully, this will be an enjoyable ride for all of us! This is my first time writing a multichapter fic so I apologize if anything seems out of place. So, with that, enjoy the fic!

_I need a drink..._

The muscles in Tony's shoulders were stretched tight as he sat on the dingy motel room bed, staring at the blank, swamp colored drywall. A lump of bile in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. The man ran a hand over his damp neck and let his leg bounce with overt anxiety as his stomach did backflips over my rib cage. His heartbeat against his chest with purpose, the rapid beat roaring in his ears alongside a constant, squealing ring that resulted in a stabbing ache behind his eyes.

The air of the room was tight like he was surrounded by rubber bands - stretched tight and ready to pop - rather than a dingy twin bed that radiated the musty smell of mothballs and a short television set that appeared sketchy, at best. A pretty far cry from champagne, silk sheets, and scotch, but providing a necessary discretion given the circumstances.

_"I know your secret..."_

It's hardly a shock to anyone who's picked up a street-side tabloid that the billionaire, playboy, trust fund kid, Tony Stark, has a few deep dark secrets up his sleeve. Living in the spotlight naturally means there are things one has to keep under wraps and away from the public eye to keep the stocks up and the board of directors off one's ass. Things that could potentially end a career, a comfortable penthouse life, or a reputation.

Tony never cared too much about these things.

Something new brought him to that grimy grease pit. Or, something old.

Tony ran a finger over the familiar rose etched into the notecard gripped in his tight vice. Between the water mold and dust, he caught a hint of a powdery perfume that sparked recognition in his mind. It was undeniably her.

The man pursed his lips, throwing the card onto the bed and burying his face in his hands with a shaky sigh. The scent still tingled his nose and he used the sleeve of his white button-up to rub it away with a groan, a shiver running up his back. Unwelcome memories invaded his mind as the scent assaulted his senses. Hands running down his back, brown hair tickling his face, empty sheets.

Shaking these memories from his head, Tony stared blankly at the dirty wall.

The knock that followed cause Tony's bones to nearly jump out of his skin and the billionaire bolted upward, tripping over his own feet to get the door. He paused at the door momentarily, hand hovering over the knob as his guts scrambled to squeeze their way into his throat.

There could be anything behind that door. A gun. A familiar brunette fling. An eighty-year-old catfish intending to murder him and use his skin as...

Tony threw the door open and tensed, bracing himself for whatever he had coming. The wind from outside the landfill nearly knocked him over as he forced open the door and stumbled briefly before looking out into the parking lot.

Behind a white truck, he barely spotted a hooded figure in retreat, slim and tall with heels that clicked against the gravel.

"Hey!"

The man couldn't hold back a shout and regretted it instantly as the stranger jumped out of her skin and looked back at him for a split second. In that second, Tony caught a glimpse of familiar, striking brown eyes that glinted in the moonlight. They were gone in an instant as she fled, taking off at an unnatural speed towards the busy highway where cars passed in a streak of glaring yellow headlights.

He was jump-started into action as she began slipping through his fingers like a wisp.

"Hey! Wai-!"

Tony's body was jerked back as his foot caught something heavy and he barreled forward, throwing out his hands with a startled yelp and hitting the concrete with an unattractive sprawl, shredding the skin on his palms and jarringly slamming onto his elbow with a force that was sure to bruise. He swore loudly, curling up slightly as he gripped his elbow and groaned in response to the shivers of pain radiating up his arm. The hooded figure vanished not unlike a ghost beyond my view and the billionaire winced, pushing himself up with his bloodied hands to stand.

Before Tony could lift himself off the ground, however, a new sound chilled him to the core.

A shrill, almost inhuman wail shattered the atmosphere and Tony jerked in my shock, taken off guard and scrambling away from the sound assaulting his senses. The shrieking continued and he winced, pressing his hands over his ears and acknowledging the source.

The culprit of his graceful fall appeared to be a rather large box, heavy and wooden with some sort of blue fabric pooling from inside. The wail radiated from its center and Tony stared with wide eyes, the man's heart hammering in his tight chest and his entire body breaking into a cold sweat.

Every bone in his body told him to kick the wailing box curbside and call Obadiah. Or the police. Or both. However, Tony felt a strange tug to the small crate. Swallowing the ever-present lump in his throat, he slowly inched his way over to the box, leaning away nervously and wincing at the sharp shrieks before gritting his teeth and peering over the edge of the box.

_No..._

A small mop of brown hair was the first thing that hit his eye and his stomach dropped.

_No fucking way..._

A red face, screwed up in anguish and fear came next.

_There's no fucking way..._

When Tony managed a full view of the bundle of blue fabric and tears, he couldn't help but sit frozen in horror and fascination, staring blankly at the creature as though watching a zoo animal behind _glass._

_A baby...?_

Nausea crept upon him from his gut and Tony swallowed heavily to push it down. While he knew that there was always a chance of passing on his genes unintentionally through a broken condom or a careless night, he had never been confronted with the reality of the possibility. However, as Tony stared down at the squirming larva of a human, it became real. The kid had a mop of dark brown curls on his head, hanging in his eyes which were screwed shut and leaking tears down his chubby, red cheeks and led to a lip that trembled violently, giving the wail vibrato as it pierced the chilled darkness.

There was a note lying on the baby's chest and Tony's jaw tensed as he snatched it up with trembling hands, staring at the rose with renewed flame as he shakily tore open the envelope, unfolding the letter to reveal sweeping cursive sketched neatly across the page.

_"Tony_

_I'm sorry for the trick. I know that was a crappy thing to do, but I had to get you to meet me as soon as possible and I was running low on time and options. This was my best bet."_

His muscles stiffened and he ground his teeth together, trying to control the bud of anger blooming in his chest. "Yeah, no shit."

_"I'm sure you're expecting an explanation, one that I wish I could give you in detail, but I'm afraid I have to keep this short._

_That night in New York, I was involved in some less than savory groups. Ones that want you dead. I was a hitwoman looking for a quick dollar and they hired me to make you disappear. It was no coincidence that we found each other that night._

_However, that night I saw a side of Tony Stark that the media and the cameras conveniently forget, and I couldn't do it. I took what I could to convince them that I had snuffed you out, then bailed, going underground._

_But what I didn't account for, was him._

_I am constantly on the move and there are some very bad people attempt to catch my scent. I won't put him in danger like that. I've taken a lot of bad people out of the world. He is the only good thing I've ever added to it._

_He's yours now. You don't have to keep him, but I'm begging you to give him the life he deserves. One I can't give to him._

_Take care,_

_A-"_

Tony lowered the letter with a shaky breath and once again looked down at the kid, who was still shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. The confirmation of his suspicions only further stalled his mind and he reached into the box, his eye-catching a glimpse of something around the baby's neck. A silver dog tag hung around his throat and Tony slowly grabbed it, wincing as his fingers brushed the boy's shoulder.

_Peter_

Peter... Tony looked down at the baby, Peter, processing the revelation. Somehow, having a name to apply to the kid made the whole concept reality and the man was quickly snapped out of his frozen horror. He shot up, standing and holding his hands up as though relinquishing responsibility and backing away with purpose. Somehow, with his absence, the baby's shrieks grew even louder, and Tony jumped out of his skin, shushing the boy in panic while crouching back down.

"Sh! Shut up, kid! You're going to get the police called on us!"

The baby continued to wail and Tony groaned and slapped his forehead.

"Damn it! God damn it!"

The man flew into action, grabbing the box and shoving it into the hotel room, slamming the door closed with purpose and hopefully muffling the baby's screaming. Peter's only response to the move was a miserable hiccup before continuing to wail, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and his hands reaching up to the huffing Italian miserably. Tony stiffened and stepped back, laying his back against the door and staring at the kid with a permanent wince carved onto his face.

"Okay! We're inside! Now would you please-!"

Peter continued to bawl and Tony flinched and covered his ears once more as the brat's incessant whining continued. "Oh for god's sake!"

With quaking hands, Tony shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out a phone, slamming the one with force and pressing it to his ear as the monotone dial tone clashed with the baby's howling. A click met the man's ear and he heard a slurred voice come over the receiver.

"Tony...? It's the middle of the night..."

Peter's bawling briefly escalated to a piercing scream and Tony held a hand to his exposed ear, flinching violently and wincing as his eardrums and head gave a sharp twinge.

"Jesus Christ Tony, what the hell is that?!"

Tony gave a sheepish grimace.

"Hey, Obi... I have a bit of a situation..."

* * *

"She left you a _what?"_

With the lack of attention, the boy's had long since reduced to miserable sobs with violent vibrato as his lip quaked violently. Tony had long since lowered his hand to wrap around his abdomen protectively as the man kept his distance from the bundle in the box like the kid was some kind of bomb.

"A baby, Obi. A fu... a freaking baby..."

"I don't think the brat even knows English yet, Tones."

"You try swearing with a fetus staring at you!"

Tony glanced at the blubbering kid who had two hands reaching in his direction, little fists grabbing at the empty air as it followed his voice. The playboy's back stiffened and he turned his back to the baby, muttering and rubbing a hand over his face.

"I can't do this! What am I supposed to do with this thing?!"

There was a long sigh from Obi's end and then silence only broken by blubber butt behind him.

"Alright, well you aren't getting anything done just standing there running your mouth. You gotta get him to stop screaming. He's going to wake the dead."

Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Great idea, Obi! Why didn't I think of that? You're just an _endless fountain_ of wisdom! It's not like I've been trying for the past hour!"

"Don't give me lip, boy! I'm not the one who knocked up a god damn assassin!"

The man grumbled and rested his forehead against the wood door, thumping his head against it methodically as Obidiah smeared the shit that was reality in his face.

After a moment, Obidiah grumbled over the receiver.

"God, you _are_ hopeless, boy."

Tony winced, squeezing his eyes shut as panic began to cloud his mind, the corners of his vision darkening and the walls getting tighter.

"Alright, Tones. It's a baby. Baby's only cry for three reasons. Food, shit, and pain. Did you hurt the kid?"

Tony scoffed in indignation, standing up straight with a scandalized look.

"No, Obi! Jesus, I'm not a damn monster!"

"That's not what I'm saying. I just know you when you're wasted. Do you give it food?"

Tony glanced at the kid sheepishly.

"No... I don't have anything on me."

Obidiah sighed. "Alright, well, we can't do anything about that. Does it stink?"

Tony went red, then paled and shook his head. "Hell no, I'm not checking that."

"Tony, it's a baby, you got yourself into this. Check the damn kid."

The man cringed violently and glanced at the baby. Peter reached out to him with a desperate whine and Tony winced before inching closer, leaning down and awkwardly pulling the edge of the kid's diaper up to check.

"He's clean, Obi."

Obidiah hummed in response. "Maybe you're just ugly, kiddo."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Not the time!"

His godfather barked out a laugh. "Sorry, got it." There was a beat of silence before the man came back over the receiver. "Wait, you did try to pick the kid up, right?"

The genius stared forward with a blank expression and Obidiah groaned.

"Dear Lord, boy. You're as dull as dirt."

"How was I supposed to know?! I've never had one of these before!"

Obidiah starkly ignored his childish whining. "Pick the kid up, Tones."

Tony tensed, staring down at the mop of brown hair and baby fat with pinprick pupils and sweaty palms.

"I can't."

"Tony, for God's sake, do you want the brat to shut up or not?"

The playboy winced feebly and stared at Peter in fearful silence, muttering a weak rebuttal.

"Wh...What if I break it...?"

"Well, considering that you clearly got dropped on your head a few times, I'd say Stark babies are pretty hard to crack. So pick the damn kid up and make it shut up before I lose my damn mind and the whole world finds out about this mess."

Obidiah didn't leave much room for argument and Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry as he held the phone between his shoulder and cheek and kneeled to the kid's level. Peter's cries were reduced to hopeless blubbering sobs, his cheeks completely soaked with tears. One hand was in his mouth as he seemed to try gnawing on it for comfort, the other stretched out in a desperate plea.

Tony grimaced and dipped his hands into the crate, flinching away as his hands made contact with the warm mass before gently tucking his hands underneath Peter's back and scooping him out of the box, tucking the boy's head into the crook on his elbow for support and holding him close to his chest, looking down on the boy's twisted features. Peter squirmed unhappily, initially, but stilled once he felt the warmth of Tony's chest, his features slowly relaxing and the hoarse cries at last fading out to blissful silence.

The genius gawked, flabbergasted. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide as the simple gesture silenced the tornado siren of a cry. "Well, shit!"

"What, Tones? You didn't drop him, did you?"

Tony shook his head, entranced. "No! He just... stopped!"

"It's a he?"

Tony blinked and coughed, clearing his throat and breaking away from the sight with a slight flush. "Uh, y-yeah. It - uh - h-his - um - his name is P- um - Peter."

"You named it?! Tony, you can't do that!"

Tony started slightly, narrowing his eyes into a sharp glare. "Why not? It's mine, isn't it?"

"No! It's not! You know you can't keep this thing!"

Before Tony could respond, Obidiah continued.

"You're a raging alcoholic and you have a company to run! You'd kill the thing! Besides, he's illegitimate and you already know the press would have a field day let alone the board of direct-"

Tony sneered and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I get it. I didn't even name him, for your information. It was just the name on the tag."

His godfather made a sound as though he intended to continue his rebuttal but Tony steamrolled him. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Stane? You said it yourself, I'm an alcoholic, I'm a CEO, I'm a carbon copy of my father, I'd probably kill the thing. I'm not a moron, Obi, and I'd make a pretty shit-tastic dad."

The man grimaced and shook his head, wrinkling his nose. "I'll call a social worker in the morning if that'll satisfy you, alright?"

"Alright, alright Tones, calm down. We'll figure this out in the morning. Late. Morning."

Tony nodded with a hum of acknowledgment. "Fine."

"And don't get attached, just keep the thing alive until someone can get him out of your hair."

Peter let out a tiny yawn and Tony felt incredibly small, staring down at the kid. The boy squirmed and turned away from Tony's chest, facing the ceiling and rubbing his small hands over his puffy eyes.

"Y-Yeah, I get it, Obi. I'm not going to get..."

The charismatic man suddenly felt the wind completely leave his lungs as the boy in his arms slowly opened his eyes, dark brown irises glinting in the lamplight and looking up at him with weary wonder. For a moment, Tony couldn't do anything but stare, not so much as breathing as he locked eyes with his baby for the first time. A warm feeling exploded in his chest and seeped through his veins like a drug, radiating from Peter like sunlight. His boy's once trembling lip slowly turned up into a toothless, quirky smile and Peter reached a tiny hand upward, patting his father's nose with a curious giggle.

"-ony? Hello? Tony!"

Tony shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, responding with a croaky tone.

"Um... attached. Yeah. I gotta go. Kid. Uh. Goodnight, Obi."

Obidiah was silent for a moment, before replying with an air of suspicion.

"Night, boy. Think about what I said."

The line clicked as his godfather hung up and he let his phone fall uselessly to the carpet, drowning the room in silence once more. Tony was completely still for a moment as his son grabbed at his cheeks, giggling and grinning as though he hadn't been left in a wooden box on the doorstep. Tony raised a shaky hand to Peter's and the boy wrapped his hand around his father's first finger, barely covering half of the appendage.

The billionaire had never really held a baby before. The company he kept hardly had time for matters of children and family, let alone having enough time to let their boss hold their infant. Rhodey and Obidiah never married and Tony was an only child. He found himself fascinated by the warm ball of life in his arms that was gnawing on his finger with a contented grin. The world felt far away, as did the dingy motel room, as he was captured by the wonder of his child. He eventually found his voice, hoarse as it left his lips.

"H-Hi... I'm... uh... Tony..."

Peter gurgled in response, gently kicking his legs. Tony felt a dopey smile reach his lips.

"S-Sorry about... yeah..."

He let out a shaky sigh, taking back his hand to pat down the untamed mass of curls. Peter gave a small pout, but it shifted to a calm smile as Tony pet his hair.

"I'm, uh... I'm your dad..."

Peter looked up at him behind the curls, completely unfazed by what the man was saying, but looking content anyway. Tony smiled and a breathy laugh escaped him as he once again let Peter grab his finger. Peter's eye lit up as his toy was returned and he grabbed hold of it once more, gumming at Tony's hand. The billionaire felt entranced, hardly noticing the kid's saliva coating his hand, and just trying to process the flood of emotions that had washed over him in an instant.

"I don't know what to do here... I don't think I can keep you..." Doubt was creeping in, morphing the warmth into a chill, seizing fear as he pictured a social worker coming in the room and taking his son from his arms and watching them walk out the door. He was instantly ill and he had to take a few shallow breaths to avoid vomiting, his stomach lurching violently.

All it had taken was one look and he was smitten. To Tony, this was petrifying. It wasn't supposed to happen. Stark men were not fathers. Even if he was to keep the kid, who's to say he wouldn't mess it up? What if he hurt him? What if he got drunk and stepped on him or something? Or forgot to feed him? Howard was not a father and neither was he. He'd had that message beaten into his head by age three. Tony could feel his chest starting to seize and his breathing started to get shallow as his anxieties swirled about in his mind. Suddenly, sending Peter away was a very attractive idea and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

However, when he pictured a stranger hiding away with his boy in some foster home or orphanage, an unfamiliar feeling surged within him, rearing its ugly head. Possessiveness and rage as hot as fire. He took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes to Peter completely passed out, breathing lightly with his hand still wrapped around Tony's finger. Tony felt the dark thoughts whisk themselves away to the corners of his mind as quickly as they came and his heart melted as he pulled his finger away to fondly rub a thumb over Peter's damp cheek.

Despite the fears and doubts, he knew somewhere in his walled-off heart that giving this kid away was never going to be an option. He gently lifted the boy to rest on his chest, putting his back to the bed and leaning against it for support while letting Peter's head rest on his shoulder.

"I'm not going to let anybody take you away, alright kiddo? You're not going anywhere."

As if in agreement, Peter's hand squeezed the fabric of Tony's shirt, keeping him close. The man chuckled and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment and letting the adrenaline from the night fade and be replaced with blissful melatonin as unconsciousness prickled at the edges of his thoughts.

"No one's gonna hurt you... over my dead body..."


End file.
